The Prostitute Grift.

This is another one of those entirely, 100% true stories that I like to drop in here, from time to time.

This story comes gurgling up to the forefront of my consciousness, straight from 1987. When I was but a lad of 12.

By age 12, I knew everything I needed to know about girls, without accumulating any actual experience. Just that year, or the year before that I discovered late night adult films on Showtime and HBO and Cinemax (or their early predecessors). One hot summer night, I discovered the erotic film, "Emmanuelle" and saw my first girl on girl kiss. In this way, I was born into manhood.

I knew what sex looked like.
And I knew what it felt like when I did it to myself.
But what I didn't know was what sex felt like, when you do it with a girl.
This need for actual experience clawed at my psyche, day and night. I was like Dr. Frankenstein, obsessed with the monster that I'd created.

All the girls that I knew at the time were my age and just weren't into sex, yet. (At least, not to my knowledge.) And the older girls that I knew (the sluts) wouldn't give me the time of day. I couldn't get any action off of them, either. So, I devised a plan, so perfect, so devious, so foolproof that I was positive that it would work. (Keep in mind, while reading this, that I'd seen a lot of screwball comedies at that age and this actually sounded feasible to me.)

I call the plan, "The Prostitute Grift" and here's how it works...

As a bright eyed, innocent lad, I wander into the seedier areas of downtown Louisville, KY. and locate a street corner where a gaggle of prostitutes might be hanging out. The corner should be well lit and have a pay-phone nearby. And visible to that pay-phone, should be a different pay-phone. But the two of them should be far enough apart that you can't hear the conversations going on at them.

I would approach the distant pay-phone, looking as sharp as a 12 year old boy could look. I was to wear cologne and clean underwear and slick my hair down, to look more adult. To top it off, I was to wear my Sunday Church suit. Because 12 year olds ALWAYS look more adult in their business suits. If a prostitute and I made eye contact, I would smile and wave at them and proceed to make a "Very Important Call" that would appear to not involve the prostitutes at all.

From the distant phonebooth, I would call the phone booth nearest to the girls. Intrigued by the change in their hum-drum whorish evening, one of the ladies of the night would answer the ringing pay-phone. I would speak to her, disquising my voice with my keen vocal skills as a trained actor and imppressionist. I would assume the persona of "Mysterious Millionaire Uncle" and this is what I would say...

"Hello, Young Lady. You don't know me, but I am a Mysterious Millionaire who lives in the area. I am observing you and your conversation from afar. Across the street, you'll see my nephew using the pay-phone, calling his broker. I love my nephew very, very much and it grieves me to know that he's never known the pleasure of a woman's touch."

"I, myself, am old and have had many women. But my nephew is a virgin. Untested and unaware of the subtle pleasures of the sexual act. Let me cut to the chase with you, madam."

"I would like to hire your talents to sexually pleasure my nephew. Give him the works! Use every erotic art that you know! Bring a friend and sandwich him between your ample bosoms, a sweaty, entanglement of limitless experimentation. Give him a short rest, if you deem it neccessary and then do it again. Over and over! In and out! Up and down! In a pair or a threesome! I want you to give him The Big Show. The Whole Enchilada. The Gold Star Treatment! A night that he will never forget!"

"Now, I am no fool. I know that having my nephew sample every item on your menu of delights, is going to be a costly venture. Frankly, I don't care the cost. I am a millionaire and can easily pay for your services. Give him an afternoon, evening and morning of sexual debauchery and I will richly reward you."

"I have, but one caveat. He must never know that this privilege comes from me. If he knew of my involvement, he would hate me forever and I can't bear the loss of his love. So, when you approach him, make no mention of your employment or my presence in the transaction. Do this, and an not inconsequential bonus is in your future."

"Once you've finished pleasuring him, return to this pay-phone and I will have my driver arrive with your payment, in cash. Immediately. Is this amenable to you?"

Once I had secured the prostitutes compliance, I would exit the payphone and walk by her, whistling a merry tune. Totally oblivious to what had just transpired.

The prostitute would immediately begin hitting on me. I would act surprised, but interested by what she was offering. A worldly little chap. Once she'd broken my will, she and a big-breasted. bisexual friend of hers would take me to a hotel nearby where they would proceed to blow my little 12 year old mind up, with their crazy sexiness.

I would eventually leave the hotel, before the two prostitutes woke up. I would head to a previously appointed pick-up spot and have a teenage friend drive me home.

Eventually, the duped pair of prostitutes would make their way down to street level to wait for a payment that would never come. Ha ha! Take that, prostitute! You've been grifted by a twelve year old criminal genius! And I FINALLY get the sex that I so desperately needed.

I can remember this plan in graphic detail. I was so sure that it was going to work that I would scope out suitable street corners whenever my family drove into downtown Louisville for any reason. I never saw any actual prostitutes, but I was pretty sure that they hung around, at night.

Now, twenty years and several sexual encounters away from that plan, the whole thing is just damned ridiculous to me. No prostitute in her right mind is going to fall for such a hair-brained scheme. Likely, she'd know EXACTLY what was happening and come over and either spank me until I ran away crying or drag me into an alley, take anything of value that I had and then kicked my ass for good measure.

Completely leave aside the fact that I was absolutely unaware that prostitutes weren't just dick-hungry nymphos who chose that job to get paid to do what they wanted, anytime and anywhere. I was oblivious to the realities of their lives and why they did what they did. They weren't real to me. My experience with prostitutes were pathetically mis-informed. The only prostitutes that I knew about were in the movies "The Man With Two Brains" and "Trading Places" and "Porkies"! (Not the best sources for this sort of information.)

My worldly experience was so far removed from reality that I couldn't see the gigantic holes in my plan. And in retrospect, I am amazed that I actually believed that plan would work. I really believed it would. 100 percent. I possessed the right combination of imagination, naivete and confidence to believe in that plan.

A year later, a babysitter would show me my first real boob. (not both, just the one. She didn't want to get in trouble for that.)

After that, a little gal that I nicknamed "kitten" taught me how to make out with someone. (She also gave me lice. Let me tell you, THAT was fun.)

Eventually, I got to touch an actual vagina in a swimming pool in Florida. (I just tried to hold on, while the girl did all the work, chasing down and subduing her own orgasm, despite my awkward fumblings.)

And in high school, a girl stepped up, declared the event and took my virginity from me. I was grabbed, stiumlated and thrust into the collective ranks of Experienced Men to the soundtrack of a cassette tape of Bobby Brown's Greatest Hits!

I completely forgot about "The Prostitute Grift".
Actual life experience was so full of possibilities that I didn't need a Musical-Comedy style scheme to try and steal sex from people. Of course I never tried it. It's now filed quietly away in my memory, along with "Middle School Detective Agency" and "Building My Own SpaceShip", in the file for Silly Childhood Plans That Wouldn't Have Worked Anyways.

Cheers,
Mr.B


At age 12, my entire experience with prostitutes was limited to Jamie Lee Curtis in the movie, "Trading Places". I think SHE would've slept with 12 year old me. If only out of pity.